


another two words

by threefundamentaltruths



Series: bridgerton missing scenes [4]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Bridgertons Being Bridgertons, Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefundamentaltruths/pseuds/threefundamentaltruths
Summary: “Come along, Lord Whistledown,” Anthony beckons grandly to their younger brother.Lord Whistledown???Wherein Benedict and Sophie learn the true identity of Lady Whistledown.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton
Series: bridgerton missing scenes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112294
Comments: 22
Kudos: 196





	1. book

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from _To Sir Phillip, With Love_ /the _Romancing Mister Bridgerton_ second epilogue. Set at My Cottage, just before the brothers arrive at Romney Hall and serves as a prequel to _[those two words](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690983)_.
> 
> This came to me when I realized that Benedict and Sophie weren’t at Daphne’s ball. Sophie being a HUGE Lady W fan, I just needed to know how she reacted! I wrote two versions of this - one is strictly book compliant and one is a book + show mix.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [your3fundamentaltruths](https://your3fundamentaltruths.tumblr.com)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedict and Sophie learn the true identity of Lady Whistledown, take 1.

_1824 – Wiltshire_

“Come along, Lord Whistledown,” Anthony beckons grandly to their younger brother.

_Lord Whistledown???_

Surely, Benedict must have misheard.

But then the most remarkable thing happens: Colin, despite a fair bit of grumbling, _answers_ to the absurd moniker, looking oddly self-satisfied as he follows Anthony to see to their horses before they push on to retrieve Eloise and sort out whatever dreadful mess she’s gotten herself into.

What the bloody hell is that about?

“I – _what?_ Wait a minute, come back here!” he commands. “What have I missed?”

“Oh, yes,” says Anthony, far too casually to be sincere, as he turns back, “turns out –”

“Get Sophie first,” Gregory cuts in. “You know she’ll be furious if we tell you before her.”

He could scream (and he so hates it when one of his brothers is right about the smallest thing, but especially Gregory, who is an _infant_ ), but it is true, so he does fetch his wife, resisting the urge to pick her up and carry her out bodily in his haste. By God, now he _has_ to know what the hell his brother has to do with that diabolical scribbler, who seems to know an alarming amount about their family – and especially when they are or are not expecting a child . . .

But it can’t actually be Colin, because he’s been away half the time. Or perhaps he is one of several people who –?

“As I was _about_ to say before Gregory so _rudely_ interrupted me,” Anthony resumes impatiently, “it turns out my wife was right. Lady Whistledown _is_ one of us.”

Sophie’s jaw drops.

“One of us?” she echoes in disbelief when she finally regains her powers of speech. “A _Bridgerton_? How did we never figure it out all these years?”

“Well, she is a very recent addition to the clan,” Anthony says meaningfully.

_Penelope?_

“No,” he finally manages, “surely not –?”

Colin doesn’t volunteer anything, but his expression has turned thunderous and Benedict finds himself on the receiving end of a _very_ intent look – intent as in _if you say one single, solitary bloody little word wrong right now on the subject of my wife, I’ll be_ intent _on bludgeoning you_.

And so, he knows for certain that it’s best not to say anything else just then and promptly shuts his mouth.

Instead, he lets Sophie do the talking for both of them. “Oh, that’s _brilliant_! Good on her. No wonder I’ve always liked Whistledown.” She puts a hand on Colin’s arm. “You’ll have to tell Penelope that she must be prepared for me to pester her for all the details next we’re in London. Oh, I can’t _wait_! My sister Lady Whistledown – how grand!”

He grins at her excitement. He never understood Sophie’s intense interest in – just a shade less than obsession with – Whistledown, but it made her happy and so, annoying as he always found the woman, it made him happy too.

Sophie smiles, a bit softer, as a thought occurs to her. “No wonder Whistledown was never mean-spirited. Penelope could never.”

It’s true, he realizes. Besides the bits on fashion, Whistledown was never nasty to anyone who didn’t truly deserve it; she never even said a cross word about the utterly horrifying Smythe-Smith musicales, for heaven’s sake.

(On the other hand, he can still picture Eloise crowing every time the column criticized that cow Cressida Cowper Twombley.)

“No, she couldn’t,” Colin agrees with a soft smile of his own.

And she’d never told the truth about Sophie. He’s always felt indescribably lucky that they managed to keep the full story under wraps, but it wasn’t luck, was it?  
  


It was discretion, tact, _kindness_. There had been no compelling need to reveal their secret, so Penelope simply didn’t. She couldn’t not write about their family altogether, but nor did she abuse her position as Eloise’s dearest friend and confidante.

“I’m a bit jealous you all found out before I did,” Sophie continues with a slight frown. “Did you just sit the family down and announce it?”

“Does that seem sufficiently dramatic for him?” Anthony asks, the question clearly a rhetorical one.

Sophie purses her lips in thought.

He loves to watch her think.

But it barely takes her a moment. “Not at all,” she says quickly, grinning.

Colin doesn’t deny it.

“How did it really go?”

Anthony shrugs. “At Daff’s ball. He made a toast and announced it to the assembled guests.”

Gregory makes a disgusted face. “Trust Anthony to make it sound as pedestrian as possible. It was rather grand and romantic, actually.” Gregory has a soft heart.

Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if his baby brother had shed a tear.

Colin brushes an imaginary bit of dust off each shoulder, looking impossibly smug.

Sophie’s eyes widen, instantly interested. “Oh, how lovely. You must tell –”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “I did find out before that, however,” he interrupts, sounding as smug as Colin looks.

“I didn’t have a choice but to tell you sooner,” Colin mutters. “Seeing as –”

“I was impressed, of course,” Anthony interrupts. “And rather amused. But mostly, I was surprised. I’ve always known Penelope was sensible. But if she was clever enough to fool us all these years, she’s far too clever for our brother. I have had days to consider this conundrum and still I truly cannot fathom how such an intelligent woman fell in love with such an idiot.”

Colin glares and punches him in the arm.

Anthony grunts. “And now my wife won’t shut up about being right that Whistledown had a _tendre_ for Colin, you know,” he grumbles.

Colin smiles at that, but it’s a bit wistful.

“Bloody annoying,” Anthony continues.

“Before I knew,” says Colin wryly, “I complained to her that Whistledown always called me charming.”

Gregory snorts.

“Has she apologized for insulting you so grievously?” Sophie teases, elbowing Colin companionably.

Colin rolls his eyes. “Does that seem in keeping with her character?”

Sophie clearly can’t help but laugh.

“At the time, I was told to be grateful that Whistledown hadn’t called _me_ an overripe citrus fruit.”

“Yes, it was very clever of her to insult herself,” Sophie says thoughtfully.

“Well,” Anthony begins.

Colin tilts his head in question. “Yes?” he asks in a dangerously soft tone.

Anthony, being Anthony, is incapable of backing away from the brink. “You must admit those gowns were hideous.”

“Is that so?” Colin asks faux-conversationally.

They _were_ hideous and they all _know_ they were hideous – Colin himself included – but the rest of them aren’t fools enough to say as much just now.

Anthony rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop looking at me like you want to rack me. We all know it’s true. Every woman in the family commented on it when she finally started choosing her own clothing – what an improvement it was, how they wished her dear mama had kept away from the modiste years ago –”

“Yes, her mother has the fashion sense of a gnat,” Sophie interrupts crossly.

“I think that’s an insult to the gnat,” Benedict mumbles.

“Still, you ought to be grateful to your mother-in-law,” Anthony continues.

Colin blinks and looks at the rest of them as if they’ve suddenly been trapped in a farce. “Did he hit his head when I wasn’t looking?”

Anthony shrugs. “As disturbing as I find the notion of feeling anything more positive than mild disdain toward Portia Featherington, the fact remains that, had Penelope been permitted to dress herself without her input years ago, she might well have married elsewhere.” He’s grinning, obviously joking, but Colin’s expression turns serious.

“Stop it,” Sophie scolds.

He protests, “I didn’t even –”

Sophie shakes her head. “Not you.” She turns to his younger brother. “Colin,” she says gently, slipping her arm through his and leading him a bit ahead of the rest of them as they walk on. Her words are hushed, but Benedict’s always been blessed with superb hearing. “Stop that. Things happen when they are supposed to. Do I sometimes wonder how things might’ve gone if I’d told Benedict who I really was when we first met?”

She’s never once said that to him in their seven years of marriage.

“Certainly. Would we have had two more happy years together, earlier? Perhaps. But I’m not so sure. In fact, my heart tells me it wouldn’t have ended this way. The timing was wrong. We weren’t ready to love one another in the way we each deserved.”

Sophie’s right. Certainly, she’s right when it comes to his brother, but she’s right when it comes to them, too, he realizes.

He can’t regret the path that got them here when the destination was his dreams come true.


	2. book + show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedict and Sophie learn the true identity of Lady Whistledown, take 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show-compliant version of this story.

_1824 – Wiltshire_

“Come along, Lord Whistledown,” Anthony beckons grandly to their younger brother.

_Lord Whistledown???_

Surely, Benedict must have misheard.

But then the most remarkable thing happens: Colin, despite a fair bit of grumbling, _answers_ to the absurd moniker, looking oddly self-satisfied as he follows Anthony to see to their horses before they push on to retrieve Eloise and sort out whatever dreadful mess she’s gotten herself into.

What the bloody hell is that about?

“I – _what?_ Wait a minute, come back here!” he commands. “What have I missed?”

“Oh, yes,” says Anthony, far too casually to be sincere, as he turns back, “turns out –”

“Get Sophie first,” Gregory cuts in. “You know she’ll be furious if we tell you before her.”

He could scream (and he so hates it when one of his brothers is right about the smallest thing, but especially Gregory, who is an _infant_ ), but it is true, so he does fetch his wife, resisting the urge to pick her up and carry her out bodily in his haste. By God, now he _has_ to know what the hell his brother has to do with that diabolical scribbler, who seems to know an alarming amount about their family – and especially when they are or are not expecting a child . . .

But it can’t actually be Colin, because he’s been away half the time. Or perhaps he is one of several people who –?

“As I was _about_ to say before Gregory so _rudely_ interrupted me,” Anthony resumes impatiently, “it turns out my wife was right. Lady Whistledown _is_ one of us.”

Sophie’s jaw drops.

“One of us?” she echoes in disbelief when she finally regains her powers of speech. “A _Bridgerton_? How did we never figure it out all these years?”

“Well, she is a very recent addition to the clan,” Anthony says meaningfully.

_Penelope?_

“No,” he finally manages, “surely not –?”

Colin doesn’t volunteer anything, but his expression has turned thunderous and Benedict finds himself on the receiving end of a _very_ intent look – intent as in _if you say one single, solitary bloody little word wrong right now on the subject of my wife, I’ll be_ intent _on bludgeoning you_.

And so, he knows for certain that it’s best not to say anything else just then and promptly shuts his mouth.

Instead, he lets Sophie do the talking for both of them. “Oh, that’s _brilliant_! Good on her. No wonder I’ve always liked Whistledown.” She puts a hand on Colin’s arm. “You’ll have to tell Penelope that she must be prepared for me to pester her for all the details next we’re in London. Oh, I can’t _wait_! My sister Lady Whistledown – how grand!”

He grins at her excitement. He never understood Sophie’s intense interest in – just a shade less than obsession with – Whistledown, but it made her happy and so, annoying as he always found the woman, it made him happy too.

Sophie smiles, a bit softer, as a thought occurs to her. “No wonder Whistledown was never mean-spirited. Penelope could never.”

It’s true, he realizes. Besides the bits on fashion, Whistledown was never nasty to anyone who didn’t truly deserve it; she never even said a cross word about the utterly horrifying Smythe-Smith musicales, for heaven’s sake.

(On the other hand, he can still picture Eloise crowing every time the column criticized that cow Cressida Cowper Twombley.)

And yet . . . Lady Whistledown _had_ written a column that had nearly destroyed their family the first year she’d circulated, the most explosive column she’d ever published, exposing her cousin’s secrets, exposing their family to ridicule and ruin –

Exposing her own family to ruin, too, which is why no one would ever have dreamed Penelope could’ve done it.

Still, they’ve all always known Penelope had access to the information and _he’s_ known for years that she would’ve had cause to want to stop his brother’s first – thanks to her, failed – attempt at marriage.

Seven years, to be exact.

(Seven years later and he _still_ feels secondhand embarrassment at just having been present that day, would still never have the nerve to bring it up in front of her. Purposely did it only in her absence, so he wouldn’t _entirely_ have to forego the opportunity to mock his brother mercilessly.

He’d have had to be a saint to do that.

And even then, he’d been a bit more circumspect than Colin deserved. But Penelope deserved better than to have her feelings be the subject of mockery, even inadvertently.)

Now he feels a bit foolish, having never once considered his now-sister-in-law as a suspect. It made nearly as much sense as Eloise, whom he did suspect, and yet –

“No, she couldn’t,” Colin agrees with a soft smile of his own.

And she’d never told the truth about Sophie either. He’s always felt indescribably lucky that they managed to keep the full story under wraps, but it wasn’t luck, was it?  
  


It was discretion, tact, _kindness_. There had been no compelling need to reveal their secret, so Penelope simply didn’t. She couldn’t not write about their family altogether, but nor did she abuse her position as Eloise’s dearest friend and confidante.

“I’m a bit jealous you all found out before I did,” Sophie continues with a slight frown. “Did you just sit the family down and announce it?”

“Does that seem sufficiently dramatic for him?” Anthony asks, the question clearly a rhetorical one.

Sophie purses her lips in thought.

He loves to watch her think.

But it barely takes her a moment. “Not at all,” she says quickly, grinning.

Colin doesn’t deny it.

“How did it really go?”

Anthony shrugs. “At Daff’s ball. He made a toast and announced it to the assembled guests.”

Gregory makes a disgusted face. “Trust Anthony to make it sound as pedestrian as possible. It was rather grand and romantic, actually.” Gregory has a soft heart.

Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if his baby brother had shed a tear.

Colin brushes an imaginary bit of dust off each shoulder, looking impossibly smug.

Sophie’s eyes widen, instantly interested. “Oh, how lovely. You must tell –”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “I did find out before that, however,” he interrupts, sounding as smug as Colin looks.

“I didn’t have a choice but to tell you sooner,” Colin mutters. “Seeing as –”

“I was impressed, of course,” Anthony interrupts. “And rather amused. But mostly, I was surprised. I’ve always known Penelope was sensible. But if she was clever enough to fool us all these years, she’s far too clever for our brother. I have had days to consider this conundrum and still I truly cannot fathom how such an intelligent woman fell in love with such an idiot.”

Colin glares and punches him in the arm.

Anthony grunts. “And now my wife won’t shut up about being right that Whistledown had a _tendre_ for Colin, you know,” he grumbles.

Colin smiles at that, but it’s a bit wistful.

“Bloody annoying,” Anthony continues.

“Before I knew,” says Colin wryly, “I complained to her that Whistledown always called me charming.”

Gregory snorts.

“Has she apologized for insulting you so grievously?” Sophie teases, elbowing Colin companionably.

Colin rolls his eyes. “Does that seem in keeping with her character?”

Sophie clearly can’t help but laugh.

“At the time, I was told to be grateful that Whistledown hadn’t called _me_ an overripe citrus fruit.”

“Yes, it was very clever of her to insult herself,” Sophie says thoughtfully.

“Well,” Anthony begins.

Colin tilts his head in question. “Yes?” he asks in a dangerously soft tone.

Anthony, being Anthony, is incapable of backing away from the brink. “You must admit those gowns were hideous.”

“Is that so?” Colin asks faux-conversationally.

They _were_ hideous and they all _know_ they were hideous – Colin himself included – but the rest of them aren’t fools enough to say as much just now.

Anthony rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop looking at me like you want to rack me. We all know it’s true. Every woman in the family commented on it when she finally started choosing her own clothing – what an improvement it was, how they wished her dear mama had kept away from the modiste years ago –”

“Yes, her mother has the fashion sense of a gnat,” Sophie interrupts crossly.

“I think that’s an insult to the gnat,” Benedict mumbles.

“Still, you ought to be grateful to your mother-in-law,” Anthony continues.

Colin blinks and looks at the rest of them as if they’ve suddenly been trapped in a farce. “Did he hit his head when I wasn’t looking?”

Anthony shrugs. “As disturbing as I find the notion of feeling anything more positive than mild disdain toward Portia Featherington, the fact remains that, had Penelope been permitted to dress herself without her input years ago, she might well have married elsewhere.” He’s grinning, obviously joking, but Colin’s expression turns serious.

“Stop it,” Sophie scolds.

He protests, “I didn’t even –”

Sophie shakes her head. “Not you.” She turns to his younger brother. “Colin,” she says gently, slipping her arm through his and leading him a bit ahead of the rest of them as they walk on. Her words are hushed, but Benedict’s always been blessed with superb hearing. “Stop that. Things happen when they are supposed to. Do I sometimes wonder how things might’ve gone if I’d told Benedict who I really was when we first met?”

She’s never once said that to him in their seven years of marriage.

“Certainly. Would we have had two more happy years together, earlier? Perhaps. But I’m not so sure. In fact, my heart tells me it wouldn’t have ended this way. The timing was wrong. We weren’t ready to love one another in the way we each deserved.”

Sophie’s right. Certainly, she’s right when it comes to his brother, but she’s right when it comes to them, too, he realizes.

He can’t regret the path that got them here when the destination was his dreams come true.


End file.
